My Yoke is Easy and My Burden is Light

A key part of my faith journey these days involves paying attention to apparent coincidences. As a Christian I believe God is acting in my life every day so these coincidences can be seen as evidence that he is speaking to me.

I had one such coincidence occur the other day when I heard Matthew 11:30 repeated to me twice within an hour by two different people, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light." So I began to meditate on the scripture to see what the Lord was trying to tell me.

The first "Aha" I experienced came after Googling the word, "yoke" to see what one actually looked like, and I was surprised to realize that a yoke is designed for TWO oxen to put a plow, wagon, or other farming implement. And furthermore, farmers would usually pair one seasoned ox with a younger ox in the yoke to train him in the work being done.

So immediately I got this image of Jesus right beside me as the seasoned ox, helping me shoulder the load of my yoke and guiding me on the path ahead. But actually I realized that he was asking me to be yoked to HIM and his work, rather than giving me strength to carry MY yoke, a yoke that I had been intent on carrying.

What does this scripture require of me? How does it convict me? Well first it tells me that I've got to let go of the yokes I've been hanging on to - - burdens I've chosen or clung to that are not Christ's burdens. Then I need to choose be obedient to him and follow him in carrying HIS yoke.

It's a paradoxical concept because, on the one hand I know that Christ came that I might have life and have it more abundantly, but on the other hand he wants me to be yoked to him. Does it make me a slave to him? Aren't I giving up my freedom? Well, yest and no. I think he calls me to carry this yoke with him and by doing so I'll experience the freedom of his love and grace. I don't want to be yoked to selfish desires, worldly things, or sinful things. I want to be yoked to someone who loves me and wants to give me my heart's desire - - so I actually GAIN my freedom by surrendering and being yoked to him.

Another interpretation of this scripture comes from the perspective that Jesus was telling his followers at the time not to be yoked to the 613 Jewish purity laws that the Pharisees would lord over them. I can see a connection to this teaching in my own life also. What things do I burden myself with daily, saying, "I should be doing this, I should be doing that. I'm not doing enough, etc."

I don't think Jesus wants us to "should" ourselves to death. He wants us to do our best, he wants us to love him, and he wants us to enjoy our life. When we "should" ourselves to death, we are focused on what we didn't do yesterday and what we have to do tomorrow and we are not living in the present moment. We are carrying anxiety and burdens about work left undone and are not at peace.

I think that is what Jesus is saying in this scripture. He says in the preceding lines, "I will give you rest," "learn from me," and, "I am gentle and humble of heart." So he wants to give us a peaceful, fulfilling life not a burdensome and troubling life - - but it takes that first step of agreeing to be yoked to his will, not our own.

I'll have to admit that I also see parallels to Jesus' conversation with Peter in John 21:18 in this scripture. In it, Jesus says to Peter, "When you were younger you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go."

Like Peter before me, only by professing my love for Christ and carrying his yoke can my heart find peace. I'm learning that it's a struggle everyday to recommitt to this, but I know that if I do he will help me carry the load and grant me his peace.

The Voice That Calls Me By Name

Have you ever been in love? Do you remember what it’s like: the giddiness, the joy, the laughter, and excitement? You can’t wait to see their face, hear their voice, or hold their hand. And everything they do is adorable. You love their name, their hair, their smile, and you start to fantasize about what it might be like to have your names carved into the side of a tree with a big heart around it, or printed on embossed wedding invitations. The first time he or she says the “L” word, though, you have to decide how you’re going to respond? Do you say, “Me too,” “Ditto,” or do you step up to the plate and actually say, “I love you!”

In my reflection last week I spent some time with John 21 and felt challenged by the passages in which Jesus asks Peter (21:15), “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” “(21:16) Simon, son of John, do you love me?” And a third time (21:17), “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” As I unpacked these passages with my spiritual director it never really occurred to me that God wanted or needed to hear ME say, “I love you.” I mean if “God is love,” as it says in 1 John 4:16, why does he need me to confirm this for him?

I was still chewing on this question when I chose “The Good Shepherd” discourse (in John, Chapter 10) to reflect on this week. I wasn’t sure at first if “The Good Shepherd” was a good passage to select according to John Shea’s criteria because, while interesting, it doesn’t really contain any plot. It seemed more of a metaphorical discourse about God’s salvic love for us, but I decided to give it a shot anyway.

As I reflected on the passage, a couple of things jumped out at me. In John 10:2 Jesus says, “The one who enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The keeper opens the gate for him. The sheep hear his voice, as he calls his own by name and leads them out.” Then in John 10:4 Jesus says, “(the gatekeeper) walks ahead of them and the sheep follow him because they recognize his voice.” And finally, in John 10:9, Jesus says, “I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be safe.” Like you, I’ve heard this discourse a hundred times, but for some reason this time the words “name” and “voice” jumped out at me when I heard it, so I decided to explore that.

First, I totally get the metaphor about the shepherd and the sheep, and it was probably a metaphor that was easy for the people of Jesus’ time to understand too because shepherds and sheep were so commonplace back then, but it felt to me like there was something else going on in the narrative so I let my mind wander as I meditated on the story. This meditation led me initially to think about Jesus’ baptism by John at the river Jordan. In fact I looked at the various accounts of the baptism story in all the Gospels and realized that this is the first time Jesus was audibly told by the voice of his Father that he is beloved (Luke 3:21), “You are my beloved Son. On you my favor rests.”

Next, I thought about Moses’ first exchange with the voice of God on Mt. Sinai in the burning bush, and how Moses goes through the trouble of asking God (Exodus 3:13), “When I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ if they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what am I to tell them?” God replied, “I am who am.” Then he added, “This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you.”

These reflections on the voice of God confirmed for me that in The Good Shepherd discourse, there is something more going on when Jesus calls “his own by name” and “the sheep hear his voice (10:3-4).” So I started to reflect on my own experiences of being loved and thought about what it’s like to hear the voice of someone you love on your voicemail or hear them call you from across the room at a party. What I realized was your name seems to sound different when that person says it because it’s coming from the voice of someone who loves you. You not only hear your name, but you hear the love they have for you when they call.

Going back on John 21 for a minute, I’m struck by the fact that Jesus calls Peter deliberately by his name three times, “Simon, son of John … Simon, son of John … Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Could it be more obvious? This calling of Jesus is not just a metaphor anymore. He IS calling us by name, just like Peter, calling us to intimate love, relationship, and to our commission. He calls us by name into the sheepfold because he loves us, and he demonstrates this great love by laying “down his life for (us) the sheep (10:11).”

Next, I started to think about related scripture passages I was familiar with and it occurred to me, that just like any other mutual relationship of love between Bill and Barbara, Sally and Sam, and Dick and Donna - - God wants us to call HIM by name in this relationship of love too!

• “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy NAME.” (Luke 11:2)
• “I am the Lord, this is my NAME” (Isaiah 42:8)

And the same is true of the Son of God! As The Good Shepherd, Jesus allows God’s grace to flow whenever we pray in his NAME:
• “Whatever you ask in my NAME I will do.” (John 14:13)
• “All you ask the Father in my NAME, he will give to you.” (John 15:16)
(Ironically, this realization came to me while I was attending mass at Holy NAME Cathedral yesterday.)

So in closing, my reflection on The Good Shepherd revealed something to me I hadn’t expected. The scripture wasn’t just a metaphor for how obediently following The Good Shepherd was going to help me gain salvation, it was about a shepherd who wanted me to (1) hear his voice, (2) hear him call me by name, and (3) love him so much in return that I wanted to follow him through the narrow gate and not be distracted by the voice of strangers, thieves or bandits. The Good Shepherd calls me into a relationship of mutual love with him on a first name basis, yes, just like Moses and Peter, (I said yes, just like Moses and Peter) not a relationship of blind obedience in hopes of earning his love. He wants to be the lover I think about when I go to sleep at night and the lover I can’t wait to spend time with when I awake - - the name on my lips and the name in my heart.

Breakfast with Jesus

Chapter 21 of the Gospel of John, begins with Peter telling the five other apostles who are gathered with him at the Sea of Tiberias, “I am going fishing,” and they all respond by saying,” We also will come with you.” After fishing all night long and catching nothing, Jesus appears on the shore at dawn and tells them to,”Cast the net over the right side of the boat and you will find something.” The apostles oblige, but are not able to pull in the net because of the large number of fish that fill it. Taking note of this miraculous catch, the apostle John says to Peter, “It is the Lord,” - - which motivates Peter to jump into the sea and swim to the shore to see Jesus. Meanwhile, the rest of the apostles drag the net of 153 fish with them by boat to the shore.

Upon arrival to the shore, the apostles see a charcoal fire with fish cooking on it, and Jesus says to them, “Bring some of the fish you just caught,” and, ”Come have breakfast.” The apostles, join Jesus for breakfast though they don’t seem to fully recognize him. He then takes the bread and fish and gives it to them to eat.
“When they have finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, Simon son of John, do you love me more than these? He said to him, Yes Lord; you know that I love you. Jesus said to him, Feed my lambs.” Jesus questions Peter two more times about his love for him, to which Jesus replies, “Tend my sheep” and “Feed my lambs.”

Initial Insight
I’ve always enjoyed reflecting on John 21 because I love to imagine having breakfast with Jesus at a morning campfire on the beach. It is a welcoming, fun image for me of hanging out with Christ in nature. It’s the way I enjoy being in fellowship with other men and having this carefree time with Jesus is something that feels welcoming, comforting and collegial to me.
I must confess, however, that as I enter into this scripture meditation that I already have a relationship with the text. Besides liking the image of having a morning beachfront breakfast with Jesus, the dialogue that Jesus has with Peter after breakfast is something I’ve actually heard whispered in my ears. Specifically, during a time of evening prayer in an empty St. Clement Church, I was reflecting on the call of some of the great prophets in scripture (e.g. Moses, Gideon, David, Jonah, and Paul) and I got on my knees and asked the Lord, “So what do you want ME to do?,” and I heard the words, “Feed my lambs, Tend my sheep.” This was a startling insight, and has been a clue to me that the Lord is calling me to serve in some kind of ministry but I’m still discerning how to live out that call.

New Insight
In the scripture story, Jesus reveals himself to his disciples again. In perspective, Jesus has already appeared to them at least four times prior to this event in the Gospel of John. (e.g. Mary Magdeline at the tomb when she mistakes him for the gardener, the two men leaving Jerusalem for Emmaus, the ten apostles hiding out in the upper room, and week later to the same group - - plus Thomas who was not present previously and asks to put his hands inside Jesus’ wounds). What this chronology tells me is that the apostles don’t get it. They don’t yet “get” the resurrection. This is a startling insight that hadn’t struck me before, especially since Thomas, for instance, has just had physical contact with the wounds of Jesus and proclaims, “My Lord and My God!”

Abundance = Jesus
Another thing that strikes me about the scripture is that there are so many fish in the net that the apostles cannot empty the net into the boat, so they drag the net of fish to shore, yet the net does not break. Like the feeding of the 5000 and similar miracles, this miracle stirs John’s heart (and possibly the other apostles’ hearts) to realize, “It is the Lord.” They can’t see Christ with their eyes, but they see him with their hearts. Abundance is Jesus’ calling card. “It’s the Lord.”
I once heard and evangelical preacher say, “When Christ shows up, Christ shows off,” and I’ve experienced this first hand in my life when abundant blessings (experiences, finances) show up that are bigger that I was expecting or imagined. So these abundant encounters with Christ stir our hearts to make us realize (like the abundance of fish) “It’s the Lord” - - meaning I didn’t do this so the Lord must have, and “Wow” what a blessing it is!

The scripture also shows me that because the abundance of fish the apostles encounter is so great they have to “drag” the net to shore. I think this is true of blessings I’ve received also. My heart is used to a diet of three square meals a day of soup, sandwiches, and salad - - but the minute someone wants to offer me lobster (e.g. all you can eat lobster) - - by first reaction is one of wow and wonder rather than, “Let’s eat.” My heart wants to soak in this blessing and make sense of it first. I can’t digest all of it at once because Christ’s abundant blessing is much bigger than my small hardened heart. And I think Jesus shows us/me in the scripture that he knows this miraculous blessing will “wow” us, so he helps us unpack it. “Bring some of the fish you just caught.” “Let me help you unpack that. Let me help you enjoy this blessing I want to give you. This is what I am about. I want to bless you with abundance. Let me help you.”

Jump in With Both Feet
The scripture tells us that Peter “jumped into the sea” upon hearing “It is the Lord.” Peter is the excitable apostle it seems who always wants to walk on the water with Jesus, be bathed entirely by Jesus on Holy Thursday, and wields his sword when Jesus is betrayed by Judas in the garden. I see myself in Peter in this reading in many ways, but what I see Jesus trying to uncover in his questioning of Peter is, “What’s underneath you enthusiasm for me and my ministry? You just returned to fishing a few hours ago, and the six other apostles followed you. You have been with me three years, and I know you are my friend, but do you love me? Are you willing and prepared to follow me? Do you love me more than these? Do you love me more than fishing? Do you love me enough to give up your old way of life and suffer and die for me? Those are big questions.

The stakes in the conversation are elevated by the fact that this is the first recorded time Peter has spoken to Jesus since he denied him three times. So in a sense Jesus is saying in a back-handed way, “I already forgive you for denying me,Peter. So don’t worry about it. What I really want to know is if you love me so that I know where our relationship stands in the future. Can I trust you? Can I rely on you? I’ve got big plans, and I think you’re the man for the job, but I need to know if you’re up for this.”

In my own life, believe it or not, I’ve been practicing for this conversation with Jesus. To overcome some of the past fears in my life I regularly spend time praying and meditating by the north branch of the Chicago River. It’s a beautiful and peaceful place. As part of my meditation, I step into the river with both feet (with my shoes on) and tell the Lord I’m ready for whatever he is calling me to do. I ask him just to shepherd me and reveal the path to me so that I can participate in his Kingdom. It has been a helpful ritual for my spiritual growth and to practice saying “Yes, Lord you know that I love you.”

A Short Course in Love
In summary, as I’m learning, I think John 21 is a short training course on Christ’s love for us. In the first phase, call it Love 1.0, Jesus shows us the abundant life he wants to bless us with as his Beloved (i.e. an overflowing net of fish). It the second phase, call it Love 2.0, Christ calls us to participate in his Kingdom and be his reflection of love in the world. Yes, he wants us to praise him, but he also wants us to participate with him and be his hands and feet - - with feet that jump out of the fishing boat in a spirit of excitement and commitment that challenges us to give up our old way of life (i.e. fishing), and with hands that aren’t afraid to heal the sick or be stretched across the cross to suffer in his name.

Are We Afraid of Socialism or Just Afraid of Sharing?

It's been interesting observing the whole healthcare debate over the past year in the U.S. and what lines of defense and arguments people have been hanging their hat on. At the same time we all know that we collectively depend on government in specific areas of our lives to make our country run effectively, (whether we like it or not) to provide a strong military, welfare to the poor, some kind of educational standards, and laws that try to reflect our morality.

Amidst this debate, however, fear seems to always be the trump card that is played to try and convince people that government intervention is bad. I'm not siding with one point of view or another, but just observing that in America we seem to be acting like immature adolescents in the public forum more often than not because none of us seems to have the stomachs or attention spans for an informed debate with some give and take.

Our collective psyche seems to be bent on the dualism of labeling someone's approach or ideas as "wrong," rather than figuring out how to solve real problems with real solutions. I would go so far as to say that because of this dualistic debate and the related partisanship, that our leaders are no longer focused on solving problems for Americans at large, but on winning arguments and fighting for self-preservation (aka re-election).

So what's the solution? I say it's humility and charity - - practices that cause each of us (especially our leaders) to be vulnerable and die to themselves - - and think of the other guy, not just their own necks. Because we are not more humble and charitable as a country, I think THAT is why we are creating more government-funded (aka socialist) policies. "I'm not willing to directly help my neighbor who's lost their job, but I'll begrudgingly allow the government take something out of my paycheck to help them."

Humility and charity come from love, generosity, and a sense that life is not just about ME. Socialism comes from abdicating responsibility for those in need to government. Socialism is growing out of an individualistic culture in America that is more focused on it's own welfare than the welfare of others. So we triangulate the care we give our neighbor via the government rather than helping them directly ourselves. To be blunt, our country is too selfish and individualistic to help our neighbor, so we outsource that help to the government. That is what socialism really is in my opinion.

As Jesus showed us, the feeding of the 5,000 only occurred because a few gave what little they had (fishes and loaves) so the Lord could bless it and create abundance. If we don't participate in service to others through humility and charity, God can't bless our work and create abundance from it. So I think the only way to stop socialistic changes in society is to create more REAL Christians, Christians who will love, feed, and clothe thy neighbor, not just go to Church on Sunday. Can we do that? I'm not sure.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus say, "The poor you will always have with you but I will only be with you a short time." In meditating on this scripture I've come to realize that our heart for loving the poor and those in need will never be as big as the heart of Jesus, so yes, we WILL always have the poor with us.

Finally, I would offer that capitalism isn't necessarily better than the renewed socialist direction our country is taking. The previous administration in Washington had no interest in addressing the healthcare debate so instead the current administration did. A market-based economy is great for creating jobs and wealth, but in a capitalistic society there will always be, as Jesus said, those who do not have jobs and wealth. So what's our long-term strategy to help them? Humility and charity. Only our hearts can fix these societal ills, not our wallets, not a government program - - and that's what Jesus wants from us.

I was at a church meeting six months ago where a wealthy man in the audience was upset by the idea that the government was going to increase his tax rate to help fund programs for the poor (aka socialism), and it was interesting to observe his anger. He said, "I should be able to decide what charities my money goes to, not the government." I think his heart was in the right place, but it seemed like his pride was getting in the way too. At the same time, however, I think he was trying to say, as a Christian, that I'd rather be charitable to my neighbor rather than the government telling me how charitable I should be (via government programs and increased taxes).

At the end of the day, I think the only solution is to realize that in all of our actions we are working to build the Kingdom of God, not our own individual kingdoms. It's all God's money to begin with, we're just stewards of it for a short time here on earth. So as long as we're humble and charitable with our gifts, God will take care of the rest and make sure those in need are taken care of, in the same way that Jesus fed the 5,000. So the answer isn't socialism or capitalism, the answer is humility and charity.

Making the Gospel Stories Our Own

As an adult Christian I am learning to get to know Jesus both as a man, as a historical figure, and as the risen Christ, and each of these ways of knowing him has its own layers to it. Jesus was a man who had a mother and father like I do, he enjoyed table fellowship like I do, and he enjoyed time in prayer like I do. As a historical figure living 2000 years ago, Jesus lived in a culture, geography, and political climate different than I live in now, but I can try to study those times and extrapolate his experience to my experience (e.g. customs, dress, rituals). And finally, the deepest layer I’ve come to know Jesus as is the risen Christ - - as a person, as a voice, as a Spirit who speaks to me in my daily life, through the scriptures, in my relationships, and in the Mass.

Having been introduced to the practice of Ignatian prayer several years ago, I have had moving experiences of meeting Jesus on the Road to Emmaus, meeting him on the road with Bartemeus, meeting him among the tombs in Genesaret, and on the road back home from a foreign land with the Prodigal Son. By sitting with these scriptures for a period of time, meditating on them, and putting myself in the scene, Jesus has revealed himself to me through the characters in these stories. As such, it’s been not so much a process of me making these Gospel stories my own, but of the scriptures revealing the risen Christ to me in them.

Without a deeper way of knowing the scriptures, and Christ through them, the scripture stories remain just stories, as John Shea notes. It’s difficult to hear a story over and over again and have it be fresh exciting, and generative (Shea, p. 51). As Shea suggests, I’ve had to learn to get out of the way of the story and find a new way of seeing.

For me, when I am able to meet Christ in scripture, he meets me in my wounded places, seeing wounds I may not have revealed to anyone else, but he seems to know intrinsically they are there. I’ve been the fearful, possessed man dwelling among the tombs in shackles and chains in Gerasenes (Mark 5:1), I’ve been the lonely, Prodigal starving in a foreign land, longing to eat the husks of corn the pigs were fed (Luke 15:11), I’ve been the hard-hearted apostle unable to see Christ walking with them on the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13), and I’ve been the persistent Bartimaeus who comes face-to-face with the Jesus who asks him, “What do you want me to do for you? (Mark 10:46).”

In getting to know Jesus Christ, I’ve always been intrigued by what John the Baptist says to his follows when Jesus first arrives on the scene, “I must decrease so that he can increase.” For me, this scripture describes the self-emptying journey that John Shea is talking about in Gospel Light. It’s about being present in mind, body, and Spirit, but letting the Spirit of the risen Christ speak through my life, rather than letting the mind or body being in control and running the show. As Shea says, “We participate in the Divine Being at every moment (Shea, p.40).” When I’m living a life attuned to the Spirit, I move beyond the dualism of compartmentalizing my prayer time and work time, joys and suffering, and good times and bad. As Richard Rohr says, I come to know that “everything belongs.” Every aspect of my life becomes fertilizer for Christ to plant his seed and grow something. So even when I don’t see the flowers blooming, I know that the eternal gardener is at work, creating something new.

As an adult Christian, I know that the Gospel stories are speaking to me when a word in the scriptures jumps out at me or moves me to tears. This has the impact of either surprising me when a word jumps out at me - - or humbling me when I’m moved to tears. Lately it’s been tears that have ruled the day; convicting my heart that there is an unmet need in me that only Christ can fill. The tears also tell me that beyond the specific scripture passage I may have read or heard, Christ now has direct access to my heart. His heart is becoming my heart. His joys are my joys, and his sorrows are my sorrows, and he is conforming my heart to his will.

John Shea calls this way of connecting to the scriptures “apprenticing ourselves to the story” (Shea, p.56), such that the spirit of the text has awakens our spirit, stirs our minds to see and understand, and see with the eye of the soul (Shea, p. 60). In doing so war are now considering a common human condition, rather than a specific instance of characters in a scripture story.

As I am called to work in Ministry and continue to learn how to make Christ’s story my own, I see that this transformation to having the heart of Christ is vital. If I can see with the eyes of Christ and feel with his heart, I can be his hands and feet and accept the trials that go along with it. His yoke will be easy and his burden will be light, and I can share the realization of St. Paul when he said, “It is not I who live but Christ who lives within me (Galatians 2:20).” If I am not transformed and don’t accept the heart of Christ in my ministry, I am just a body who is listening to his own mind/ego and is not connected to his eternal purpose. I don’t see Christ in the person I am serving, and my ministry becomes just a job.

In summary, from my experience, becoming a Christian is about making the Gospel stories my own, but, like grace, it’s not something I actually DO. I am just called to show up and be “present to the presence” as Brother Lawrence says. If I am able to be present and empty myself of inordinate attachments within and without, the Gospel stories can speak to me and Christ’s story becomes my story. His tears at Lazarus’ tomb become my tears, his righteous anger at the temple becomes my anger, his death on the cross becomes my death, and his rising to new life becomes my own.

This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased ...

“This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.” These are the words we hear every year right before the first Sunday of Lent after Jesus is baptized by John the Baptist. And I think the season of Lent and the paschal mystery itself is about dying to ourselves and realizing how much Jesus loves us, how Beloved we are.‘I love you so much that I’m willing to be falsely accused for you. I love you so much I’m willing to be scourged for you. I love you so much I’m willing to be ridiculed and spit on for you. And I love you so much that I’m willing to die for you.’ I don’t know about you, but this is a kind of love I have trouble getting my arms around and truly believing and accepting with both my head and my heart.

This Sunday we heard the Parable of the Prodigal Son, a parable many of us have heard before. In the parable, the young Son asks for and squanders his inheritance, but upon his return home is freely received by the loving arms of his father, while the older son is jealous and hard-hearted and refuses to enter his father’s house after this outrageous demonstration of love and mercy toward his younger brother.

We can all identify with the older son I think, who jealousy says, “How dare my father say to my younger brother, ‘this is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased.’ He doesn’t deserve it.” And we can all identify with the younger son too I think, who upon his return, prepares to tell his father, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you, I no longer deserve to be called your son.”

In the end, they’re both right. The Prodigal doesn’t deserve his father’s love and mercy, but it’s given to him anyway. And I think that’s the whole point of this story, our true inheritance is being God’s Beloved, it’s not about the property, the cattle, or the number of servants we have. As you’ll remember at the beginning of the story, the father gives freely the financial inheritance requested by his son without an argument, question, or challenge - - even though culturally at the time it would have been and still is today a tremendous insult for a young man to ask his father to cash-in his inheritance while the father is still alive.

But our TRUE inheritance as believers is that we are, as St. Paul says, “baptized into the blood of Jesus Christ.” His baptism is our baptism, the voice that calls him Beloved calls us Beloved, and the death that he died was for OUR sins, not his own. How outrageous is that? We certainly don’t deserve that kind of inheritance - - but it’s given to us anyway. It’s given to us freely with open arms from the Father who is waiting for us to return home this Lent amidst the sounds of music and dancing.

Whether we’re a son or daughter who has squandered our gifts on a selfish lifestyle like the younger son, or a codependent performance-oriented lifestyle like the older son, we BOTH are granted the same Beloved inheritance by Almighty God. God doesn’t grade on a scale. If we come home to him in a Spirit of love and repentance, we all get “A’s.” Truly, no child is left behind. How radical is that? But we’ve got to come home to him first and show up every day for school. That is what Lent is about. He wants to school us in what our inheritance as his Beloved is about. It’s not about performing outwardly for him during Lent - - giving up this or doing that - - it’s about letting God perform inwardly in our hearts. And he is waiting for us, as in the Parable says, to give him permission to do it.

“This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.”

The reason many of us are passionate about doing social justice work I think is that we have a genuine desire to serve those less fortunate than ourselves and share our gifts and blessings. Sounds like a nice thing to do, right? Our society is good with that. Giving something back, making tax-deductible donations, and looking out for those in need. But where does that desire come from?

Whether we realize it or not, I’d offer that we’re being called to share with others the outrageous love of the Father demonstrated in the Parable of the Prodigal Son: Welcome home with loving arms those who have hurt us. Give our love to those who have squandered their inheritance. Kill the fatted calf and celebrate with the sounds of music and dancing. It’s nice to say, but can really do this? Do we set our sights high enough?

During my recent trip to Israel, I had the realization during a reflection at the banks of the river Jordan, that I was a Beloved son of God, and I shed a few tears as I received that. Fr. Michael who was leading our pilgrimage helped me make a connection between Jesus’ baptism, the devil’s temptation in the desert, and our own lives as the Beloved of God. After his baptism by John, the Lord says to Jesus, “This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.” Then the Holy Spirit leads Jesus into the desert where the devil tempts him by saying, “If you are the Son of God … then do this,” and if you are the Son of God … do that.” So the devil is simply trying to get Jesus to doubt the truth of his gift of being the Beloved Son of God, doubt the power and integrity of the giver of the gift, God himself, and doubt his need for dependence on God for daily nourishment and subsistence.

As scripture tells us, Jesus passes these three tests from the devil with flying colors to go on to do amazing things with his ministry to the Jews and Gentiles, but how do these tests and temptations stop us from doing amazing things in our work and ministry?

• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God to stretch ourselves like Jesus did, or do we do play it safe, and play it small?
• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God when we face potential roadblocks and/or suffering, or do we persevere?
• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God or do we let our own vision get in the way of what God has planned sometimes?
• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God when we are successful, and give gratitude to God for the way he has blessed our work, or do we take the credit?

I’ve learned that if I truly believe I am a Beloved child of God and live into it this blessing every day, the devil and his doubts and temptations can’t touch me. I am a Beloved Son of God and unless I doubt or surrender the integrity of this gift to the devil or someone else, he and his lies can’t touch me. That is why; I believe Lent always begins from the baptism of Jesus, because we always need to be reminded before we go into this time in the desert that we are Beloved sons and daughters of God. Can we conceive it? Do we believe it? Do we receive it? If we do, we can do amazing, unstoppable things.

What St. Paul's Letter to the Romans Has to Teach Us Today

St. Paul’s theology, as demonstrated in the book of Romans, is just as important today as it was at the time he wrote it because we, in the post-modern world, encounter just as many divisions and disagreements within the Christian Church today as Paul did in his time. I believe this has happened because, psychologically, by human nature, all Christians want to know they are “saved” and are going to heaven. As a result, we all naturally become focused on the rules and guidelines of our faith (the Law), and how to get to heaven, rather than living the Spirit of the Law, as Paul describes in Romans.

As we all know and Sigmund Freud would tell you, it’s human nature to try and act obediently in order to avoid punishment (Pregeant, page 259). Paul says in contrast that we are justified by faith in Jesus Christ through God’s grace, and this grace is a gift given freely by God. It cannot be earned by our prescriptive, “good” behaviors as a Christian who is intent on fulfilling the law. In my opinion, the misguided focus of Christians bent on fulfilling the Law to earn salvation today has created, and continues to create divisions and disagreements in the Church about who is doing the faith correctly or incorrectly and, subsequently, who has earned a place in heaven and who has not. Like Paul’s letter to the Romans, today we encounter disagreements in the Church about similar issues:

• Faith vs. works (e.g. Are we saved by faith or by works?)
• Law vs. the Spirit (e.g. Who’s following the right Christian rules and who’s not?)
• The Role of Women in the Church (e.g. Why can’t women become priests?)
• Homosexual Relationships (e.g. Can someone practice a gay lifestyle and still be considered a Christian? Can/should a gay man or woman be allowed to become a minister?)
• Slavery (e.g. Why is there still abuses related to human trafficking and illegal immigrants?)


In this reflection I will address the first two bullet points on this list.

Yesterday I received an e-mail from my Aunt who was feeling out of sorts because she shared with a friend that she was converting to the Catholic faith from her Episcopal roots. The friend proceeded to beg her to change her mind for fear that she would end up going to hell. Unfortunately, I have other Catholic friends who struggle with the same objections from their evangelical friends during discussions about their Christian faith practices. In Romans, however, Paul tells the Church community that, despite their judgments to the contrary, all people are held under the “power of sin” - - whether Gentile, Jew, or pagan - - yet we are all justified by our faith in Jesus Christ and his promise of salvation (Pregeant, p. 245, 248, 250), just as Abraham was (Ludwig, p.7). God’s righteous action restores our relationship with him through Christ, and we cannot perform specific acts or say specific prayers to earn his grace. Paul goes on to say that righteousness is based on faith, not the Law, and subsequently obedience to the law is a dead end (Pregeant, p. 247, 249).

Paul’s writings on this issue are obviously applicable to today, but I would point out that, in my experience, someone cannot be argued out of their allegiance to specific faith practices (e.g. Law). That’s where the Holy Spirit comes in. The Spirit and God’s grace purifies the hearts of Christians over time through the practice of prayer so they come to know the truth of faith in their hearts, not just in their heads.

Based on my earlier example and experience, it’s interesting to compare how typical evangelicals and Catholics interact in today’s society, similar to how the Jewish and Gentile Christians addressed in Romans must have interacted in Paul’s time. Like the Jewish Pharisees, most evangelicals today know and can quote scripture better than any Catholic can. As such, like the Jews of Paul’s time, this knowledge of scripture for evangelicals is an advantage but can also be a stumbling block. If you have the mindset that the written Word of God is the Word of God (aka the Bible), and if something is not written in the Bible then it obviously can’t be true, I think this mindset can create blinders that crowd out God’s ability to get one’s attention and teach you anything through the Holy Spirit. Just look at Paul’s own experience. He was so militantly obedient to the Jewish Law that God had to knock him over and blind him for three penitential days before scales fell from his eyes and he “saw the light” of his calling to become an apostle of Jesus Christ. So Paul’s letter to the Romans reinforces for us today that faith has to always be a heart thing and not just a head thing. It’s not about the rules, but the grace, and God is the one who gives the grace. We can only ask for it and receive it in God’s time and measure.

Being a Christian is also not about who’s in the “salvation club” and who’s not. It’s a recognition that we’re all in the “sinner club”, and we can only be a part of the “salvation club” if we nurture a committed relationship with Jesus Christ in both faith and works. According to Paul, Christ provides what the law could not, freedom from sin and death (Pregeant, p. 249). Once we let go of worrying about who’s in or out of the “salvation club,” and focus on living in the Spirit of our faith, Christ (and Paul’s) message of loving our neighbor as ourselves can come into sharper focus. The net benefit of this is that we all end up trying to lift up each other’s boats through our love, rather than being isolated and just working on our own personal relationship with Jesus. As Paul describes, the life of a believer is a life of love that is worked out in our daily walk as Christians (Pregeant, p. 258). Some days we do it well, and other days we do it poorly. It’s a journey, but our Christian faith calls us to live and love in humility, charity, community, and a cheerful hope to persevere in our trials (Ludwig, 9).


Two-thousand years later, it’s apparent we still have much to learn from Paul’s letter the Romans. We Christians are still debating what it means to be a good Christian, we’re still sinning, and we’re trying to learn how live in God’s good graces. So if Paul’s letter was re-sent to us as a text message titles, “A letter to the Chicagoans,” it would be just as relevant to our lives as it was to the Romans in their time.